Chapter 10

Carthage

Emperor Imilcar Azor sat upon his golden throne, his face an impassive mask as he awaited the arrival of General Hadar and a mysterious visitor from the east. Though outwardly calm, irritation simmered within him at the presumptuousness of this meeting being called on such short notice. Not even his most senior advisors and generals would dare demand an audience with the Emperor of Carthage in such a brazen manner.

Worse yet, he was forced to hold that anger in, instead of venting it on those who annoyed him. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the waiting or not having someone flogged to release his annoyance.

Unfortunately, this was a problem of his own making. It had been his idea to send Hadar off on the task of building an alliance with their eastern neighbors. Based on the emperor’s previous failures, he had assumed this would be a folly, one worth attempting but unlikely to achieve success. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined the general would not only succeed but succeed so quickly. And yet a messenger had arrived three days ago with word that the general was on the way, and he was bringing an emissary from the Far East. He had been gone long enough, maybe, to reach India by ship, but no further. How he’d managed to not only contact these people but arrange for an emissary to return and negotiate, Imilcar couldn’t guess.

What mattered was that an hour ago, he received word that their expedition was nearing Carthage and Hadar’s party would be coming straight there. Normally, Imilcar would have kept them waiting, to start the negotiations off on the right foot, but he was so shocked that they were here at all and, frankly, desperate for the help they might give, that he was willing to allow the breach in protocol.

Although, allowing it didn’t help his mood.

Finally, the large, gilded doors at the other end of the audience chamber opened, and a guard announced General Hadar’s party. Imilcar ignored the general, his attention focused on the strange-looking man in flowing robes of deep blue next to him. The man had narrow, thin eyes and a skin tone that was almost as bronzed as his own people’s, showing weathering from long exposure to the sun, yet his nose and cheeks were small and almost delicate.

“Your Eminence,” Hadar said, bowing. “May I present an honored guest and emissary from the eastern lands of TianYou.”

The man’s bow was slight, more of a nod than a bow, “Greetings, Your Majesty. I bring you well wishes from my master, the immortal Zhangdi, The First Emperor, Shi Huangdi, Son of the Heavens, ruler of TianYou. He has heard your request for an agreement between our peoples and sends his humble servant to treat with your great personage.”

Imilcar pushed down a renewed surge of annoyance at the man’s arrogance. If he didn’t need these people, this might be different, but he did need them. Without the weapons they were already providing, this war would certainly be lost.

Instead of scolding the man for his insolence, he asked, “What is your name, Emissary?”

“I am but a humble servant, not blessed with a name of my own, Your Majesty. I am simply the voice of the great Shi Huangdi.”

Imilcar frowned slightly and looked to Hadar. “Tell me, General, how did you manage to make contact with these ... TianYou?”

“We intercepted one of the latest supply shipments from the East, Your Eminence, and this man was with them. He was first identified as an emissary from the east, and we approached him to find out the best way to reach his homeland and contact the rulers there. He claimed he could speak for Shi Huangdi regarding an alliance. I didn’t believe it at first, of course, but the caravan was dispatched from their capital and carrying their supplies, and they swore that he was who he said he was. Every one of the merchants deferred to him, which ... is saying something.”

“How fortunate he just happened to be with that shipment,” Imilcar said, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “And that you can speak our language.”

“It was no mere fortune,” the emissary replied evenly. “I was already traveling toward your empire, in hopes of learning more about the situation here. The Son of the Heavens has an interest in these Romans and dispatched me to investigate reports of them. We hoped to gain information about a potential new threat and I was one of the voices charged to learn your language from the merchants of the caravans who trade with you, which is why I was dispatched on this mission. When your general conveyed your wish for an alliance, it was clear both of our peoples sought the same thing, and I asked to be brought before you.”

Imilcar considered the man, weighing his words before speaking again. “Did General Hadar confirm our wishes for an alliance to this Shi Huangdi?”

“He did. Alliances, however, come in many forms. My emperor would like to know what the mighty Carthaginian Empire has to offer for such an alliance, and what you seek to receive in exchange.”

“We wish for more fire powder and access to weapons we believe you have. Anything that your artisans might have designed or created that could help us defeat the Romans once and for all.”

“We already trade gunpowder with you. Is that not enough?” the emissary asked.

“It is not enough. Yes, your people have already traded us the fire ... gunpowder, but we have found it lacks the strength of the powder the Romans use in their weapons,” Imilcar said. “What’s more, we have witnessed their metal tubes that hurl deadly projectiles across great distances and we know this gunpowder is used in those metal tubes. I believe your people already know of these weapons and your artisans are already capable of creating them. That is what we want. Weapons equal to the ones the Romans possess, to put us on an even footing with them. As for what we offer, your emperor has but to name it. Most importantly, we offer the knowledge that we will stop the Romans, who you yourself just said have begun encroaching further east. If not stopped, they will spread until they control the entire world, your people included. Supporting our efforts is the same as supporting your own, in this regard.”

The emissary tilted his head, as if listening to a voice only he could hear, and said, “To properly assess your request, I must examine these Roman weapons myself, if I may?”

Imilcar considered the request, before waving to a nearby attendant, who hurried off. He, Hadar, and the emissary sat, or stood, in their case, in uncomfortable silence as the minutes stretched. The unbothered expression on the emissary’s face infuriated Imilcar. The man was so unbothered by their plight, Imilcar wanted to shake him, throttle the man until he understood the seriousness of the subject. Instead, he sat and tried not to glare until finally, the attendant returned with one of the captured Roman rifles. The attendant brought the weapon to General Hadar, who took the weapon and presented it to the emissary with both hands.

The man grasped the rifle, turning it over with interest, running his hands across the wood and metal, which was finely crafted, although dented and scarred from the battle where it had been captured. He began murmuring under his breath in a foreign tongue, the words a rapid-fire jumble of sounds and syllables. For a moment, Imilcar thought perhaps he was talking to Hadar, who must have learned the language, but the general looked equally perplexed. Finally, the man stopped speaking and looked up at Imilcar.

“To equip your legions with such arms, we require numerous examples to study, along with any other advanced weapons the Romans possess. I have been instructed to be candid with you, Your Excellency. While our artisans are unparalleled, and we have developed some weapons similar to the ones you’ve described, they cannot yet produce such intricate mechanisms. However, given some time and more examples such as this, we can reproduce them.”

Imilcar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You claim your weaponsmiths can reproduce these rifles if provided examples? Yet why have you not crafted such arms already for your own forces?”

The man paused, his head cocked to one side again as if he were hearing something no one else could hear, before saying, “No. We do possess firearms similar to this, but without some of the advances this one has. If given enough samples of the Roman weapons, our artisans can recreate and even improve on their designs. The more examples of these weapons you give us, the faster we will be able to reproduce them.”

“You ask much of us,” Imilcar said slowly. “To hand over our precious few captured Roman weapons, on the faith your people can reproduce them. What guarantee do we have that you simply won’t take these rifles and leave us empty-handed?”

The emissary bowed his head respectfully. “A fair concern, Your Excellency. To prove our capabilities, we will provide an initial shipment of our own firearms called cannons, as you requested. They are the weapons you described, capable of hurling iron balls great distances. We will also be willing to trade more of these as well, beyond making available any new weapons we design from the Roman examples you provide us. Furthermore, we ask that you provide us with all the examples of Roman weapons you can acquire, along with any samples of their gunpowder.”

Imilcar was silent for a moment, considering, before slowly starting to nod.

“And how soon can you deliver the additional gunpowder and these cannons of yours to us if we turn over our supply of Roman weapons?”

“In exchange, the first shipment of cannons and an ample supply of our gunpowder will sail from Xianyang within a week, while the sailing routes are still open. I have already discussed with your General Hadar the need to use either overland routes when the sea lanes are closed or sea lanes through the Red Sea, due to the Roman ships. We will continue to stagger shipments of these weapons, as long as you are willing to buy them, on the condition you continue to supply us with captured Roman weapons,” the man paused again, listening. “While we know the possibility of acquiring one of the Romans’ new ship designs is unlikely, we ask for as many records and descriptions of these as possible. We have already seen the new sails that you have put on your galleys and understand these to be of Roman design. We ask that, in exchange for the continuation and increase of shipments of weapons, any Roman inventions that seem new or unusual, both military or not, be provided to us as you acquire knowledge of them.”

Imilcar was amazed enough to barely notice the second half of what the man said. This unnamed messenger had been so careful up to this moment, but he over-played his hand. To have a shipment ready within the week meant they knew all along they would make this deal. Everything else, the posturing, the dithering, it had been for show.

He knew it was for show, of course. All diplomacy was, but to have it confirmed was another thing entirely. It meant they were as desperate for the captured Roman weapons as the Carthaginians were for their ... gunpowder and cannon, he supposed the name was. He would give them what they asked for now because, ultimately, he wanted them to be able to duplicate these weapons, so they could sell them to Carthage. His artisans had looked at them, taken several apart, and found the workings beyond their skills, even after he had several skinned alive to motivate the rest.

So yes, he’d hand over the weapons, this time. He would make sure his people knew to get as many of the other Roman inventions as they could. Those would be a new bargaining chip for an even better deal, since now he knew what these foreigners truly coveted.

“Very well,” the emperor finally said. “I will order my men to turn over the weapons we have acquired. General Hadar, see to it.”

He would have to pull Hadar aside later and make sure when he said the weapons they acquired, he only meant the ones currently in their possession. Hadar was a loyal man, but he could be too simple at times, relying on the words alone and missing the subtext.

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” the emissary said, bowing for the first time. “In the name of my emperor, I wish for a long and prosperous relationship between our two peoples.”

Imilcar was certain neither of them believed that last part of that statement for even a moment.

Northern Italy Ky rode into the sprawling camp of the Seventh Legion, without stopping as he was waved through by the sentries. All around him, legionnaires went about their duties - fetching water, mending gear, drilling formations. A light rain began to fall as Ky threaded his way between orderly rows of leather tents, focused on the large command pavilion flying the scarlet banner of a senior officer.

Dismounting, Ky handed the reins to a waiting orderly and strode inside past the sentry. His arrival had been so abrupt the poor man had no time to warn the man he was guarding that his commander was there. Ky felt pity for him, but the last several days had been long, and Ky had little patience for the niceties of command at the moment.

The spacious tent was warm and well-lit, but stark and barren, a fitting style for the man whose tent this was.

“Consul,” Bomilcar said, standing from the camp stool he’d been seated on, reading what looked like a lengthy report. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No need. I came unannounced, and you have duties to attend to,” Ky said, and then abruptly changed topics. “Have you had a chance to see the news on the uprising?”

“The attack on the telegraph station?” Bomilcar asked, rhetorically. “Yes, I’ve seen it. I’m deeply sorry for the loss of your men. I know you value each life under your command.”

“Thank you. I won’t lie and say their deaths haven’t affected me, but we have a bigger issue. While I grieve for them, I cannot let it distract me.”

Bomilcar gave a small, sad nod. He was one of the few who’d truly understand Ky’s meaning. The burden of command often didn’t allow for retrospection or mourning, which could often be misinterpreted as indifference. Ky knew Bomilcar would understand the opposite was true. If he was to keep more men from suffering the same fate, he had to stay calm and do his duty, even if it seemed callous at the time.

“I understand,” Bomilcar said.

“You warned me this was going to happen, but I was too confident. Too sure I could keep pressing forward and force the locals into line, even after so many fled their villages rather than deal with us, I was certain we could make it work.”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t work for certain, only that it seemed the most likely outcome,” Bomilcar said. “There was a chance your plan could have worked.”

“Don’t start patronizing me now,” Ky said. “The fact that you’ve always said what needed to be said plainly, regardless of my ego, is one of the things I like the most about you. Don’t become a politician now.”

“I apologize,” Bomilcar said, offering a rare smile.

“So tell me what you need to tell me.”

“It was never going to work,” Bomilcar said plainly. “There’s too much land and the unrest is too great. This was the biggest problem facing Carthage in their expansions - they had to have men stationed every step they took, requiring larger and larger forces.”